The British Are Coming
by The Blue Raven
Summary: Phileas Fogg’s first encounter with Jules Verne, some ten years before the start of the series.
1. Chapter 1

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The British Are Coming

By: Blue

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Summary: Phileas Fogg's first encounter with Jules Verne, some ten years before the start of the series.

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Rating: PG

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Disclaimer: Phileas Fogg belongs to Jules Verne first and foremost, and somewhat to Talisman-Crest, Promark, etc. in this incarnation. Everyone else in this story is mine with the exception of Jules Verne. He belongs to History...

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Historical Note: This takes place ten years before the beginning of the series. Therefore, it does not feature Rebecca (much), Passepartout, or the Aurora. Since Rebecca and Passepartout are absent, Agent Brenna Blayne ("To Catch a Spy", "The Egyptian Connection") is obliged to make an appearance. Someone has to keep Phileas out of trouble, after all... 

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Author's Note: This is the 3rd in my series of SAJV stories involving Agent Blayne and her organization and takes place, as mentioned, some 10 years before the start of the series. The next three stories will involve Blayne's first meetings with Jean Passepartout (not quite a year before this story) and Rebecca Fogg (some years after this story). The final story in the arc will take place primarily in the future.

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Feedback: Oh, yes, please! Feed me, feed me!!!

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Chapter 1

Nantes was beautiful this time of year. There were no two ways about that. The air was fresh and crisp, the sunset unrivaled by any painting. And work was going well...

Through the opened window, School-Master Ravenna could hear the sounds of boys playing in the streets below, oblivious to the fact that there parents were so fear-stricken that they could not sleep at night. Of course, they realized that something was amiss. Their friends were vanishing without a trace, so far six in all, but no parents had said the words kidnapping or murder. At least, not in front of the children...

"Jules! You lost it, you get it!" a boy shouted in the street below.

Ravenna leaned out the window, watching. Young Jules Verne darted after the ball as his friends looked on, waiting. As he bent to pick the ball up from the gutter where it had landed, he looked up. Catching sight of his favorite teacher ever, he smiled and waved.

"Want to play?" he asked.

"Not tonight, young Master Jules." Ravenna gave a regretful shrug. "Perhaps another time." Looking around at the other boys, Ravenna added, "Master Pierre! Tuck those shirt-tales in at once!"

The boys laughed as Pierre rushed to comply. Ravenna returned to the desk, picking up an unopened letter. Ravenna's thoughts turned to young Jules Verne. The next target.

Opening the envelope and perusing the letter, Ravenna sighed. "The British are coming... As if my job isn't hard enough already."

*****

"Ah, young Agent Fogg." Sir Boniface looked up from the papers on his desk to the young man standing before him.

"Reporting as ordered, father." He winced and managed to stammer out, "Sir..."

Sir Boniface frowned at him. "Are you ready for your first solo mission?"

Phileas Fogg nodded eagerly. "Yes, sir, Sir Boniface. I'll make you proud."

Sir Boniface frowned more deeply. "Make the Secret Service proud, Agent Fogg."

Phileas nodded, abashed. "Yes, sir. I will, too, sir."

"Well, that remains to be seen." Sir Boniface said mildly, handing Phileas a file. 

"Nantes? In France?" Phileas skimmed the file. "I don't understand, sir. How do missing boys in France affect the security of the Crown?"

Sir Boniface scowled. "Never question. Her Highness personally asked us to investigate. These abductions trouble her, and cause her fear for the safety of her own children."

"You can't be serious? Nantes is worlds away from Buckingham..."

"Phileas!" Sir Boniface rose. "Her Highness may well have her own reasons. They are not for us to question. You will learn discretion or you will be dismissed from the Service. Am I understood?"

Phileas bowed his head, more to hide the fact that he was blushing than out of any sense of contrition. "Yes, Sir Boniface."

"Dismissed."

"Yes, Sir Boniface." Phileas gratefully left the room.

Sir Boniface looked up as a messenger entered through his other door. "Inform the Queen that I have dispatched an Agent to investigate. The matter should be resolved before her visit to Nantes."

"Her Majesty requests to know what you plan on doing if it is not successfully resolved."

Sir Boniface sighed. "Then I will send 50 of my best Agents to protect her son during his visit to the spa. We will close the spa, if needs be, on some pretex or other."

The messenger nodded. "Her Majesty begs you to remember that it must not become public knowledge that her heir is ill."

"I am her most faithful servant."

*****

Rebecca and Erasmus were waiting in the foyer of the Secret Service's headquarters. Rebecca was dressed in riding breeches.

"Sir Boniface would send you to the convent if he saw you in those." Phileas pointed out uneasily.

The girl shrugged. "I'm not going into his office, silly!" she giggled. "Besides, he's been threatening me with the convent for years now." She grinned wickedly. "If he doesn't hurry up, he's going to lose his chance."

"Eighteen is still several years away, Rebecca." Phileas pointed out reasonably.

"Then I'll marry." She rested her hands on her hips.

"You?" Phileas laughed. "I think not!"

Rebecca grinned and scrunched her nose in that way she had. She was, Phileas noted, already most fetching. She could have married well, if not for that independent-streak of hers.

Erasmus was practically jumping up and down. "Did you get it? Your first solo mission?"

Phileas smiled and ruffled his brother's hair. "Of course I did."

"Yay!" Rebecca exclaimed, clapping her hands together and jumping up and down.

Phileas noted another Agent staring disapprovingly at her. "Shall we?" he asked, gesturing towards the door.

"How shall we celebrate?" Rebecca asked, preceding the young men.

"Celebrate?" Phileas asked, surprised. He seriously hadn't considered the matter.

"Let's return to father's house and think of something." Erasmus suggested, climbing into his carriage. 

Phileas helped Rebecca into the carriage and then climbed in after her. 

"So, what does the mission involve?" Rebecca asked eagerly. "A fell plot to assassinate Her Highness, perhaps?"

"You have a morbid imagination, my dear cousin." Phileas informed her, staring out the window. 

"I'd give anything to do what you're about to." Rebecca informed him enviously. "We both would."

"Join the Secret Service." Erasmus suggested.

"Me?" Rebecca sniggered. "Sir Boniface would never let a woman in, let alone me."

"Actually," Phileas observed, "he might consider it a welcomed way to keep you out of mischief."

"Me, mischief?" Rebecca asked, smiling innocently.

When they returned to the town-house, Rebecca ran ahead of them into the sitting-room. Phileas sighed and chased after her. "Sir Boniface will be furious if he finds out that you've been in his sitting-room without..." he trailed off as he looked around the room. It was hung with decorations.

Rebecca giggled and pointed at him. "Gotcha! Oh, Erasmus, did you see the look on his face?"

Erasmus laughed and clapped Phileas on the back. "What ever happened to 'be prepared for anything'?"

*****

"I'm so grateful to Her Highness for sending a man to help us." The Mayor of Nantes led Phileas into his sitting-room, helping him out of his coat with his own hands instead of having a servant do it. He held up a decanter and looked questioningly at Phileas.

"Thank-you, no. I do not drink."

The Mayor nodded and returned the decanter to the table. A young boy peered curiously into the sitting room. Phileas smiled at him. The twinkle in the boy's eye and his total lack of regard for the state of his clothing reminded Phileas of Erasmus. He waved at the boy who immediately ducked out again. Smiling, he turned his attention to the Mayor.

"We think it's gypsies." 

Phileas raised on eyebrow. "On what evidence?"

The Mayor looked surprised by the question. "Why, who else could it be?"

"Perhaps someone right here in Nantes."

"No, no." The Mayor shook his head vehemently. "Nantes is not like London or Paris. It's a small town. Everyone knows everyone else. It couldn't have been one of us."

Phileas kept his doubts to himself. "I see... And... these... Gypsies, do they target a specific type of child? Blondes, perhaps? Or little girls?"

The Mayor shook his head. "Only boys, actually. But no one can seem to see any connection between them. They all knew each other, but as I said..."

"Yes, everyone knows everyone else. Of course. May I see your constable?"

"Um, we haven't one." The Mayor shrugged helplessly. "Not much call for one before now. We've a judge. He runs the butcher-shop. There's a lawyer, Monsieur Verne, but he mostly handles financial matters, wills and such."

"Hardly helpful, then." Phileas sighed. "So, there are no connections between the boys."

"There is one..." a low voice said from the door.

Phileas turned around to see a tall young man, not more than 17 or 18 judging by his total lack of facial hair and slender frame. Oddly enough, his head had no hair at all...

"Ah, School-Master Ravenna!" The Mayor smiled. "Surely it is not time to pay you again? Is it Saturday already?"

"No. I heard that there was an Englishman gracing our fair town. Such a rare site I had to see for myself." Ravenna gave a cynical smile.

Phileas smiled warmly. "A pleasure, Monsieur Ravenna."

"Please, Blayne." 

"Blayne. Phileas Fogg of London."

"A pleasure." Blayne bowed. "Buy you a drink?"

"Yes, please. Perhaps we can talk?"

"If you wish to."

In the local tavern, Blayne was obviously well-known. The inn-keeper immediately hurried over with a bottle of scotch.

"You're here about the boys?" Blayne asked in perfect English.

"That obvious, is it?" Phileas bowed his head. 

"Outsiders tend to leave an impression around here." Blayne poured a glass of scotch. "Are you a Bobby?"

"No. Her Majesty's Secret Service."

"Very interesting." Blayne extended the glass to Phileas.

"Thank-you, no. I don't drink."

"You will." Blayne muttered, draining the glass.

"I beg your pardon?" Phileas raised an eyebrow.

Blayne refilled the glass. "They all start out the same way. Young and idealistic. And non-drinkers. After a while, they get old and bitter and drink quite a lot. You'll see."

"Really?"

"I have."

Phileas shifted uncomfortably under Blayne's intense gaze. "You were saying that there was a connection between the boys?"

Blayne nodded. "A rather obvious one, in fact. You'd have found it yourself after a few days of investigation."

"Well, thank you for saving me the time, Blayne."

Blayne regarded him. "Am I?"

"Aren't you?"

Blayne smiled faintly. "I'm teasing. I'm like that..." Blayne stared at the scotch for a minute. "Each of the boys scored perfect marks at school."

"That's all?"

"'That's all?'" Blayne stared mockingly at Phileas. "Not many boys do in my classes. In fact, there are only... seven, I think. Yes. Seven boys."

"And only six boys missing?"

Blayne nodded. "If you'll excuse me, I've a lot of work to do." 

Phileas watched Blayne go. Something was subtly off in the manner of the School-Master. He could not quite place it, though. That talk about being old and cynical was surely odd for such a young man, but there was more to it than that. Sighing, he returned to the mayor's house. Lost in thought, he nearly tripped over a young boy who was crouched in the middle of the street with a small magnifying glass in his hand.

"I say! Are you hurt?" he asked, concerned.

The boy looked up, startled and a little wary of the stranger. "No, sir."

"What do you have there?" Phileas asked, smiling.

"A neat rock I found, sir." The boy held it out for Phileas to examine. "It's got a fossil in it."

"So it does." Phileas smiled at him. "Where did you get that magnifying glass?"

"I made it, sir. Out of an old pair of my father's spectacles."

"Clever." Phileas smiled at him. "You must be a good student, then?"

The boy nodded shyly. "Master Ravenna says so."

"Ah, your School-Master. Decent chap, is he?"

"Oh, yes, sir." The boy nodded eagerly, warming to the subject. "He knows every one of us, and not just our names. And he plays with us sometimes, too, and takes us on field-trips. He's taking me fossil-hunting next week."

"I see." Phileas smiled, but felt uneasy. "Tell me something, son."

"If I can, sir."

"How many perfect students are there in your class?"

"Eight, sir." He frowned anxiously. "Only two now, though. The others are... gone." He looked sadly up at Phileas. "Am I next, sir? Are the Gypsies going to take me away, too, sir? Are they going to take Pierre?"

Phileas shook his head firmly. "Not if I can help it, son." He grinned at the boy. "What's your name?"

"Jules, sir. Jules Verne."

Phileas smiled. "Well, Jules Verne, that is a most remarkable specimen in your hand there. I will give you..." he reached into his pocket and felt around. "Half a Louie for it."

The boy stared at him with wide eyes. "Really?"

Phileas nodded gravely and held the coin up.

"I already have one like it at home, so I guess you can have this one." He extended the fossil to Phileas, who accepted it and gravely placed the coin in the boy's hand.

"This is more than I've ever had before." The boy smiled, obviously excited at the prospect of having so much money to spend any way he wanted to. His smiled suddenly grew wider. "I'll save it for University!" he announced triumphantly.

Phileas raised an eyebrow. "University? What will you study? Geology?"

He smiled, then frowned and shook his head. "Father wants me to study law."

Phileas frowned sympathetically. "Study whatever you chose. Never let grownups live your life for you." He placed a crown into the boy's hand. He turned to walk away, leaving the stunned boy standing like a statue. He paused and turned back. "Where can I find this Pierre?"

"He's the Mayor's son." Jules managed.

"Good lad." Phileas smiled. 

"Are you the police-man?" 

"I'm something of that sort, yes."

The boy grinned. "Wow! Wait'll I tell the others!" He scampered off.

Phileas sighed and returned to the Mayor's house. He relayed Blayne's observation to the Mayor, leaving out the lapse of memory as to the number of students with perfect marks. The Mayor turned quite pale and immediately ordered guards to stand watch over his son. He then led Phileas to the guest-room to refresh himself before supper.

*****

Phileas awoke with a start. There was shouting all around, but he could clearly hear a woman's shriek. He jumped out of bed and hastily pulled on a dressing-gown as he hurried towards the sound. He burst into the sitting-room.

"Oh, good, there you are!" The Mayor said, leaving his sobbing wife. "The unthinkable has happened!"

"Oh, not again!" Phileas sighed. "When?"

"I'm not sure. My wife was sleepless and was, as is her habit, wandering the house when she noticed a draft coming from Pierre's room. She went in to close the window and the guards were on the floor, unconscious. And Pierre was--"

"Gone!" the woman shrieked. She was trembling horribly, and looked ready to faint. 

"Please, Madame, calm yourself." Phileas said, hurrying over to her. "I promise you that I will bring your son back to you."

He fled the room and returned to his own, dressing swiftly. He pocketed his pistol, still uncomfortably heavy after only a few months with the Service, and quietly quit the house. He grabbed a passing man's arm. 

"Kindly tell me where I might find School-Master Ravenna?"

"That house on the outskirts of town."

"Thank you." Phileas took off at a run, clenching his fists.


	2. Chapter 2

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Chapter 2

Driven by a sense of urgency, Phileas ran the entire way to Blayne's home. When he arrived, he snuck around the back and picked the simple lock. He was interested to realize that Blayne was, even after all that happened, the only person in town to bother with locks. That alone was suspicious, even if the locks were a joke. Moving silently as he had been taught, he made his way through the house. Not finding Blayne on the ground-level, he hurried up the stairs, wincing every time they creaked. He was hardly surprised to find that Blayne was nowhere in the house, but still disappointed.

"Preying on children..." he muttered in disgust, searching through the papers on the writing desk. His hand shook as he read a short note. 

__

So far, the abductions have failed to find their proper target, however, that will not last. There are only two children left in town who it could possibly be. I'll report again as soon as he is secure.

The paper crumpled in Phileas's hand but he did not notice. "Blayne, you sick--" he trailed off at the sound of a creak on the stairs.

He hastily extinguished the light and stood next to the door. He silently removed his pistol from his pocket and held it against his chest. As Blayne entered the study, Phileas hit the School-Master on the back of the head with his pistol. Blayne crumpled to the ground. Phileas carried the surprisingly light School-Master into the basement. Picking up a length of rope, he considered how best to restrain Blayne.

"No, idiot. Search them first!" he reminded himself, shaking his head. "Um, weapons..." He began reciting what he had been taught on joining the Secret Service. "'They might be carrying weapons on their ankles, at their waists, on their wrists or arms, even secured to the chest'."

Nodding to himself, he quickly checked Blayne's legs, arms and waist-band. Nothing there. Sighing, he began unbuttoning Blayne's shirt. He hesitated for a split second, wondering why the School-Master needed such a large bandage on his chest and torso.

"If he's a spy or a criminal, he could easily have been hurt..." he muttered. The rest of the lesson on finding concealed weapons occurred to him. "'Weapons may be concealed most ingeniously by the skilled spy or criminal. A woman's hair-pin, for instance can be deadly. Her wig might conceal anything. Needles may be concealed under patches of fake skin. Guns and knives may be concealed in bandages'. Right..." He nodded and cut through the bandage. "Oh, my God!" he squeaked as he got a clear look at Blayne's chest. "He's a woman..."

With shaking hands, Phileas rebuttoned the shirt. "Okay, what now?" he asked himself. "What now, Phileas? She's still a criminal... Tie her up, question her..." He rubbed his forehead and shook his head. "My God... They certainly never covered this."

Blayne began stirring. Phileas pulled her to her to her feet and picked up the rope.

*****

Blayne awoke suddenly, but kept her eyes closed and remained perfectly still until she could assess her situation. The very first sensation she became aware of, after the throbbing in her head, was the freeness, for lack of a better word, of her chest. Someone had removed the binding. Definitely not good. She remained still, continuing her self-assessment.

Shoulders hurt... Why? There's rope on my wrists... My feet are barely touching the floor. That's it. My shoulders hurt because someone's got me tied up, literally, and they're supporting most of my weight. My feet aren't tied, though. Good...

She very slowly and cautiously pulled against the ropes on her wrists. Her arms were spread, her wrists above her head. The position was not unlike that of someone being crucified. She slowly rotated her hands, testing the knots. It would take time, but she could manage it. Unless she was being observed. She slowly opened her eyes.

"Where am I?" she demanded.

"Don't you recognize your own basement?" Phileas asked, stepping into view.

"You!" Blayne shook her head. "Great... This is just perfect! Do you have any idea at all of what you've gotten yourself into?"

"Why don't you tell me all about it." Phileas suggested. "Tell me where the boys are."

"You're treading on dangerous ground here, Fogg. You're going to want to rethink your involvement here. If you leave now, you'll be safe. If you stay, I can't guarantee your safety."

Phileas snorted. "Is that a threat?"

"If it were, you'd be dead already. I don't want to kill you, Fogg."

"You're not in much of a position to. Now I'm going to ask you nicely, but just once more. Where are the boys?"

"They're safe."

"That's not good enough!" Phileas hissed in her face. "Now you tell me where they are!"

"No." Blayne shook her head.

"Please, don't make me do this."

"I'm not in much of a position to make you do anything. You can leave anytime, Fogg."

Cursing, Phileas punched her in the stomach, sending her swinging backward. He heard one of her shoulders popping and winced. Blayne stared steadily at him without a sound.

"You're crying..." she noted softly. "Take a break and start again when you're ready, son."

Phileas stared at her in awe. "Tell me what I need to know or I'll do it again."

"No, you won't."

Phileas backhanded her. "Tell me!" he shouted.

"You're in over your head on this, Fogg. Back out while you still can."

This time, Fogg punched her in the face instead of slapping her. She regarded him steadily, blood dripping from her nose. Phileas felt worse than she looked. He hit her again, but with less conviction. He fell back, shaking, horrified with himself.

"You're out of your league, son. Not to mention being out of your territory." Blayne eyed him thoughtfully. "What's your interest here, anyway? You're in the British Secret Service. Don't you have a despot to protect? She's the one you should be worried about, not a pack of boys you've never even met before."

"I am always concerned for Her Majesty's welfare, no matter what I am working on. Good Lord, for all I know, you could be involved in some plot against her!"

"Based on what?" Blayne snorted, irritated.

"Why else would I be here?"

"If there was a real plot against her, do you think they'd only send one Agent. And on his first solo mission no less?" Blayne scoffed at him. "You're here to catch a kidnapper. That's it. It's not always about the Queen, you know."

"Yes, it is always about Her Highness. She is the most powerful person living on the planet right now."

Blayne snorted.

"And for all I know, this is all a part of some elaborate plot to kill her."

Blayne laughed in his face. "Phileas Fogg, you are a fool. If I planned on killing Victoria, I could do it quite easily. I could get a job as a Lady's Maid in the Palace." She sneered at him. "Better still, I could get a job at Shillingsworth Magna and assassinate her during one of her frequent secret visits to your family."

Outraged, Phileas hit the side of her face with his pistol. Blood drenched his hand and he backed away, horrified. Blayne's head slid forward and her whole body sagged. She had fainted.

"Oh, Good Lord, what have I done?" Phileas whispered. 

He quickly checked her pulse. It was strong, and the bleeding was already less. Tears in his eyes, he pulled a chair in front of her and sat down, waiting for her to revive.

"She's right. I'm not made for this..." Phileas covered his face with his hands, weeping silently. Eventually, he fell asleep.

Blayne looked up cautiously. She examined him for a moment and nodded to herself. Carefully, she rolled her let shoulder until an audible pop told her that it was relocated. Satisfied, she lifted her feet off of the ground and tucked her knees against her chest. She jerked against the ropes until her wrists and hands were slick with blood, then she returned her feet to the ground. She lowered her head and closed her eyes again. Taking a deep breath, she slowly began rotating her wrists.


	3. Chapter 3

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Chapter 3

Phileas awoke with a start, nearly falling out of the chair. Blayne was awake again, and staring at him. "Hello." Blayne said softly. "Nice nap?"

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to..." Phileas trailed off, wondering why he was making apologies to this woman, a kidnapper, and possibly a murderer and spy as well. He shook his head. "It's time for you to talk, now. Otherwise, I'll be forced to be most exceedingly unpleasant."

"Let me guess. You're going to get medieval on my buttocks?" Blayne shook her head. "I'd really rather you didn't. And if you want, I'll tell you everything."

"Everything?" Phileas frowned, sensing that there must be a catch.

"Everything." Blayne smiled nervously. "You think I like getting smacked around?" Her voice faltered. "I'm sorry," she said softly, "could you just get a little closer so I don't have to shout?"

"Um, of course." Phileas nodded and approached her. 

"You sure you want to hear everything?" Blayne asked quietly.

Phileas nodded. "Positive. Go ahead."

"All right, then."

Blayne pulled herself up on the ropes again, swinging her legs outwards this time and wrapping them around Phileas's neck. She remained in that position for a split second before giving her legs a twist that sent Phileas flying to the ground. She unwrapped her legs before the force could break his neck and let go of the ropes. She dropped into a crouch on the floor and half picked up the still-dazed Phileas. "Alertness to detail, Fogg. 'Why are your wrists bloody, Miss Blayne?' Understand?" Before he could answer, Blayne slammed the top of her head into his face. He slumped to the ground, unconscious.

*****

Phileas awoke to find himself tied in exactly the manner he had tied Blayne. Blayne, however, had added a gag to the system. She smiled warmly at him. "Turnabout can be such fun." she noted absently. "Comfy? Good. I promised to tell you everything, and I'm a woman who keeps her promises." Blayne sat down and looked up at Phileas. "Might I just begin with a piece of advice about keeping your nose out of business that isn't yours?"

Phileas mumbled something through the gag.

Blayne sighed and began. "My real name is Brenna Aurelia Blayne-Ravenna. I am an American Agent working deep under-cover in France." She sighed and continued. "Just prior to the death of my husband two years ago, I became aware of a very disturbing plot. Now, the details of this plot do not concern you; I can only tell you that all of the kidnappings in town have been an attempt to find a single boy. A very special boy. My assignment here is to protect him, which I can not do with you snooping around, asking questions, and making trouble!"

She rose and pulled the gag out of his mouth. "Happy?" she demanded. "Because I'm not! You have compromised me and my Charge, you have broken into my home, you have beat me, tied me up, dislocated my shoulder, insulted me, and then pistol-whipped me! You spoke to the Mayor in the presence of one or more servants, didn't you?"

"Um, I... I don't r- really remem- member..."

Blayne sighed and began pacing. "Of course you did. Or you allowed him to otherwise spread around what I have told you, otherwise his son would not have been kidnapped for probably a week or more! Now my Charge is in danger because, by process of elimination, they now know exactly who he is. You're an idiot, Fogg!" Her voice had risen to a yell during the tirade. She approached him with a knife in her hand, and he tried his best to back away. He was amazed when she reached up and cut the ropes on his wrists.

"You may leave now." she informed him. "If you promise to actually leave."

"No! It is my duty to protect those who can not protect themselves."

Blayne shook her head. "Such idealism..." She turned to Phileas. "Why is this so important to you?"

"You seem to know a lot about my family already," he began, "so I guess it couldn't hurt to tell you one little thing more." Rubbing his wrists, he began. "I've always been the protector in my family. I've a younger brother." He smiled faintly. "He wants to be just like me when he grows up... He's, he's just a great kid. Do you have children?"

"Unfortunately not."

Phileas nodded. "Then you may not understand. Once you've felt that kind of need to protect any child, you feel a need to protect all children as if they were that one." He shrugged, a little embarrassed. "I know it sound strange..."

"No." Blayne shook her head. "Not strange at all. Admirable, in fact... I, I didn't know men could feel it, too." She smiled faintly. "But I thought that there were three children at the Magna?"

Phileas nodded. "Yes, my cousin, little Rebecca. She's an orphan."

"That's sad. Does she plan on following in your footsteps as well? What's she like?"

Phileas laughed. "Well, if she's not careful, she's going to get herself arrested. Or shipped off to a convent..."

Blayne laughed. "My mother always used to threaten me with the same thing."

Phileas smiled. "And here Sir Boniface thought it a relatively creative threat." 

Blayne sighed. "It's almost day-light. Get a few hours of sleep. The guest-room's this way."

"How do I know I can trust you?"

Blayne shook her head in disgust. "How's the fact that I didn't kill you when you were unconscious strike you?"

Phileas blushed. "Yeah, I suppose... Um, how do you know that you can trust me?"

"You're a Fogg." Blayne smiled grimly.

*****

Phileas awoke feeling worlds better. His neck was, admittedly, a bit sore, but the ache in his head had receded. He was surprised to find fresh clothes, in his size, laid out next to the bed. He dressed and walked out of the room. He found Blayne easily enough by following the wonderful smells coming from her kitchen. His stomach made an insistent noise at him.

Blayne was in the kitchen, once again looking every bit the young man. "Ah, good. You're up. I was just debating whether or not to wake you. Hungry?"

"Famished." Phileas smiled at her.

"Good. 'Cause I always cook too much." Blayne handed him a full plate and sat down to her own breakfast. She ate swiftly, then sat in silence, waiting for him to finish and enjoying her coffee.

"You are an excellent chef, Mrs. Ravenna."

She winced. "Please, Miss Blayne. Better still, Brenna."

He smiled. "Irish, isn't it?"

She nodded. "My grandparents were Irish. Except the English ones."

"Oh, then you do have English blood in you? I'd rather assumed that you disliked the British."

"Can't abide them, actually." Blayne smiled at him. "But that's not really important."

"No, I suppose not." Phileas stared at her. Even knowing that she was a woman, the disguise was still a good one. Rather unsettling, actually. He started as he noticed her face. "You don't have any bruises."

"Makeup." She shrugged. "Well, it would hardly do for the School-Master to be seen about town looking like he'd just been in a barroom scuffle."

Phileas winced at the casual description. "No, I suppose it wouldn't..."

"You're looking pretty messed up, yourself. When you're finished eating, I'll do you."

He shifted uneasily. "Do what to me?"

"The thing with the makeup, idiot." Blayne shook her head. "How hard did I hit your head?"

"Sorry. I guess I should have known that you'd be a deft hand with the makeup brush."

"Well, considering how hot I actually am, it would be hard to pass for a guy without a pretty thick coat." She rose and left the kitchen, returning a few minutes later with a small makeup kit."

"That's it?" Phileas asked, pushing his plate aside and moving his chair near hers.

"It's enough for everything I might ever even possibly need to do." She eyed him thoughtfully and pulled out a small container of pigment. "You're pale, I'm going to have to whiten this." She stared from the pallet of makeup to Phileas's face. "Have you ever worn makeup before?"

"Only in training exercises."

She shrugged. "Close enough. At least that means I won't have to listen to you whine about how it itches and it's heavy. And just think, women do it every day. All over their whole face."

Phileas shuddered. "I feel sorry for your gender."

"I'm sure you do. Damn, this isn't going to work. I'm just going to have to do your whole face."

Phileas shrugged acceptance. As she worked, he began slowly, "Look, I really think we need to talk about this situation with the missing boys."

"What is there to talk about? My Charge will be taken and the others returned." She sighed, her mind turning over alternate plans of action. Foremost among those: take Jules herself and get out of the country.

"What is it about these particular children? Why only the ones with top marks?"

"They're looking for a boy who's a genius. Their reasoning is that if they take all the boys who get tops marks, they'll eventually get him." She puckered her lips thoughtfully and tilted his head. "Crude, isn't it?"

"Very crude. But how can they not know who he is and still know about him?"

"Snatches of rumors, I suspect. About a special boy."

"Why do these people want him?"

"I can't say."

"Who are they?"

"Not anyone you need to worry about. Yet."

Phileas stared at her. "We need to get those boys back, Brenna."

"I know." She nodded. Things had already been taken too far from their intended course. There was no longer any way to guarantee the safety of the boys, or of Jules. All bets were off, and all she could do now was to control the damage that Phileas had caused. A voice in the back of her mind, demanding to know how Phileas Fogg could possibly have changed history, was silenced by the rational part of her mind, which said that he had and that nothing else mattered at this point. The knowledge that she couldn't change that hurt. It left her feeling helpless. "There's an abandoned castle about three hours hike from here. That's probably where they're holding the boys."

"We'll leave at once." Phileas rose. "How do I look?"

Blayne handed him a mirror. He stared into it, amazed. He knew that there were bruises on his face. He could feel them. But he couldn't see them.

"You're an artist, Brenna."

"Thanks. Shall we be off, then?"

Phileas nodded.

*****

"How... how do you know about this... place anyway?" Phileas panted as Blayne led him over a hill. 

"Some of the boys in town enjoy exploring it." Blayne looked at it. "Under different circumstances, it would almost be beautiful."

Phileas nodded. "I can see where the appeal lies for the boys."

Blayne nodded. "One of them went exploring without telling anyone and got trapped there for three days. Parts are collapsed, dangerous."

"Thanks for the warning. You've been here before? Where would you keep seven boys? The dungeon?"

She shook her head. "No. The stair-well to that is totally collapsed. An eight year old boy might be able to get through, but no adult, and certainly not several who have a struggling child to contend with." She pointed to a large window, high above the ground. "The banquet-hall would be ideal."

"Okay, then we'll start there. Are you armed?"

She shook her head.

"That's bad, considering you refused to give my gun back."

"No guns. No killing."

"But what if..."

"I have my orders. No killing if it can possibly be avoided."

Phileas sighed but was secretly relieved. He'd never had to kill a man before, and did not wish to start now. "Then I take it discretion is the better part of valor?"

She nodded and started for the castle. "Logic dictates that it won't be well-guarded. You wouldn't want to risk having an obvious presence. So, probably, the only guards we'll see will be in the banquet-hall itself."

He nodded. "Care to hazard a guess as to number?"

"One too many." She shook her head. "We'll know when we get there. Are you okay?"

He nodded weakly. "I think I can handle it."

She nodded. "Look at it this way, if it helps: you've always had backup before. This time, I'm your backup. And, believe it or not, I have a vested interest in keeping you alive."

He stared, startled. "Why?"

"I have my orders." She kept walking.

Taking a deep breath, Phileas followed. Once inside, Blayne led him unerringly towards the banquet-hall. She gestured for him to wait, and entered the hall alone. Phileas stared after her, too shocked by the action to move.

"The Count wants to know if you have him?"

"No." a man said, obviously disgusted by his failure. "And that's all seven."

"Then we'll just have to abort."

"No, he must be somewhere in town. We'll find him."

"Let's talk about this. Outside."

Blayne came walking out of the dining hall. A scruffy-looking man followed her. As soon as they were away from the door, she turned around and punched him.

"Oh, very nice." Phileas said, smiling.

"Thank you. There are three more inside."

Phileas smiled. "You realize that that was... suicidal?"

Blayne smiled. "I know my business, Fogg."

"Obviously. Shall we?"

"Think we can take all three?"

She shrugged. "They've got guns." she noted. "But I suspect that we'll manage. Just... keep your head low. Try not to get shot. Take the one on the left, I'll take the one on the right. The third will be obliged to try and deal with the children, which will keep him off of our backs for a minute." She bent over and picked up the gun from the unconscious guard. "If he tries to hurt the children, shoot him. Just try not to kill him."

Phileas nodded. "You know, this is really rather more anticlimactic than I anticipated my first solo mission being."

"Anticlimactic is good, Fogg. It increases your chances of remaining alive. Ready?" He nodded and they rushed into the room, Phileas to the left, Blayne to the right. As Blayne had predicted, the third guard instantly began herding the children out of the room. The fight ended quickly, and Phileas and Blayne rushed the third guard together. Blayne let Phileas deal with him and turned her attention to the children.

"Pierre? Are you hurt? Jean? Philippe?" One by one, the shocked children shook their heads. Louis, the oldest, spoke first. "What happened, sir? They kept asking us these weird questions."

Blayne bent close. "Like what, Louis?"

"They asked about the future, and about--"

"Shh..." Blayne smiled comfortingly. "They were crazy, Louis. But you're okay, now." She looked up to see Phileas rising and dusting off his trousers. "Boys, this is Monsieur Phileas Fogg of England. He's going to take you back to Nantes, now. You can trust him. He's a police-officer sent to rescue you. Go with him and he'll see you safe."

"What about you?" Phileas asked, frowning.

"I'm just going to... cover your retreat. I'll be right behind you."

"I can't leave you here."

"Look, Fogg!" she hissed. "There could be more guards in the castle that we didn't see. Now that they know they're exposed, they could kill the boys. Get them out of here and I'll be right behind."

Phileas turned pale when Blayne mentioned that the guards might kill the boys, and quickly began herding them out. Blayne smiled faintly. She waited until Phileas and the boys were outside before she began searching the castle. She quickly found the room she was looking for. It had been converted into a study. Blayne began searching, throwing anything that caught her interest into a pile. She quickly had a sizable pile. The room looked as though it had been through a tornado.

Blayne picked a sheet of paper out of the pile and shoved it into her pocket. She pulled out her flask and soaked the rest of the papers with scotch. Taking a deep breath, she pulled out a match and ignited it. She watched the papers burn until they had been reduced to ash. Then she fled the castle


	4. Chapter 4 -- Prologue

****

Chapter 4

"You know, I still don't understand." Phileas complained to Blayne in the carriage.

"Of course you don't. That's okay. Who knows, maybe one day you will. Or not. It doesn't really matter."

"Who were those men?"

"Part of an evil conspiracy."

"Is Her Highness in danger from this conspiracy?"

"No." Blayne shook her head firmly. "If she ever is, you'll be the first I notify."

"Thank you." Phileas sighed. "I still don't understand why Her Highness was particularly interested in this case. Does she know about the conspiracy?"

She nodded. "But that's not why she sent you. I'm afraid the reason is rather... prosaic."

"Really?"

She nodded. "You see, her son is very ill. There's quite a good spa near Nantes that she plans on taking him to. She was worried for his safety because of the disappearances."

Phileas fought down an urge to say 'Is that all?'. Instead, he smiled at Blayne. "Thank you, Brenna, for riding with me to Paris."

She smiled and nodded. "My Charge is safe. I deserve a day off. Besides, I've a report to file." She hesitated. "Um, speaking of which... if, when you deliver your report you could fail to mention me..."

"But, Brenna," Phileas protested. "You are the hero in all of this. It's only right that I give credit where it is due."

She sighed and shook her head. "Phileas Fogg, I appreciate the sentiment. I do, but..."

"Yes?"

"You risk blowing my cover. That could get me killed."

"I see. I hadn't considered that. Of course, I'll censor my report appropriately."

"Thank you, Fogg." She smiled. "I hope we work together again."

"As do I. Indeed, I look forward to it." He grinned at him.

"Don't ever change, Phileas."

He blinked. "Um... okay." He smiled as the carriage rolled to a stop. 

"Looks like your stop." Blayne said softly.

"Yes. A shame." Phileas took her hand and held it to his mouth. He gently kissed it. "I look forward to our next meeting."

She flushed and nodded hastily. "Yeah. Maybe even free of physical abuse this time?"

He laughed. "If you insist... You know, it's funny, I never thought I would shrink from fighting a woman before, if it were necessary, but... having matched you, I must say, I don't think I ever want to do it again..."

She laughed. "That's healthy."

"Good-bye." Phileas kissed her hand again before opening the carriage door. He hesitated. "This 'special boy' of yours. His name wouldn't be Jules?"

"It might be." she said warily.

"I got this from him. I thought you might wish to keep it. You seem fond of the lad." Phileas handed her the fossil.

She smiled and bowed her head. "Thanks."

"Good-bye."

"I hate that word." Blayne told him. "How about 'until next time'?"

He smiled. "You're right. That's better. Until next time, then."

"Adieu." Blayne waved before pulling the carriage shut. She peered out the window at Phileas as he hurried to the platform. "So, he's the one, huh? Bloody shame, really. I could get used to a face like that one. Have to do something about those ridiculous side-burns, of course..." Smiling, she leaned back in the carriage, putting her legs up. Smiling, she muttered, "Can't wait to meet that cousin of his..."

****

The End 


End file.
